DE OMNIBVS REBVS

Plusquam Pisces Suecicas Te Amo

2011-07-19T17:11:00.002-06:00

Gotta pack now. Off to St. Louis. See you all there. Or in Utah.

Omnia Vincit Amor

2011-06-18T19:08:00.003-06:00

While walking down the street in downtown Chicago, I came by a guy passing out flyers with the words "Looking for Love?" on the top. He tried to hand one to me. I told him no, thanks. Got one of those already.

Also, I found THIS guy.

Memoriam Nostri Quam Maxime Longam Efficere

2011-05-11T09:03:00.003-06:00

Future historians, no doubt, will be quite frustrated at the relative dearth of primary source material documenting this particular stage in the life and times of your favorite protagonist (and mine). Changes in his cursus vitae are nothing short of revolutionary. Law school, internships, engagements, prospective wedding, a pretty blond girl that kinda likes him-- readers will certainly wish they could know more and, no doubt, will express their dismay at the paucity of the record.

Future historians should frankly cut me some slack. There's kind of a lot going on right now. In fact, considering all that I will have done for the future, maybe the future will need to stop complaining and count its blessings.

Frankly, the future will probably owe me an apology.

But don't worry, future. I'm in a forgiving mood. For that, you have the present to thank. The present, you see, was nice enough to treat me to a nice spread of bagels, donuts, hot chocolate, fruit, yogurt, and these nifty raspberry smoothie things, the customary fare of each Wednesday's Coffee Mess. (Take notice, future. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. And making things happen in the job market would sure help that tingling down and to the left a bit, if you would be so kind. Thanks in advance.)

Lex de Maritandis Ordinibus

2011-04-18T21:11:00.002-06:00

The story begun on blog post the last continues, but as it turns out, Kim and I managed to set up a web site to tell the story. It being much more efficient to piggyback, the following is submitted before a candid world:

http://weddings.theknot.com/pwp/pwp2/view/MemberPage.aspx?coupleid=5288335460865621&pid=16563539

Amare et Sapere Vix Deo Conceditur

2011-03-16T09:09:00.004-06:00

Our story begins on a Sunday afternoon in September of 2009. I don't remember the occasion, but she does (unfortunately). She had moved to Chicago about a month earlier, and so remembered well what it was like to be the new person that didn't know anybody. Seeing the new guy sitting by himself in a pew at church, she decided to do the nice thing and go talk to him. The conversation went a little something like this:

K: So what brings you to Chicago?

D: I'm a law student at the University of Chicago. (Expressed in such a tone, apparently, that he thought she was supposed to be impressed.)

K. Huh. (She wasn't.)

D: And what are you doing here?

K: I'm studying to be a dietitian at Rush University.

D: Oh . . . so . . . you cut people up?

K: Um, NO. I'm going to be a DIETITIAN.

D: Oh . . . so . . . you HELP people who cut people up?
K: NO. They help plan what people eat when they're at the hospital.

D: Ah. That's cool. (Awkward pause followed.)

K: (thinking to self: yup, there's another jerk I won't have to worry about talking to.)

So it wasn't exactly love at first sight; it took a few more glances than that. She caught my attention before I caught hers. The earliest point at which I remember thinking it might be a good idea to try to ask her out was when she talked about why she wanted to go into dietetics: it was something she could do and still be a mom. She said it with a little bit of chagrin-- good thing she picked a career where she could be a mom, now that she's out of BYU, single, and (being in Chicago) looking to stay that way for some time, right? I remember thinking that I might have something to say about that. (Yes, that's correct. She first sparked my interest by telling me I didn't have a chance.)

I finally got around to asking her out . . . several months later, after three people (with no apparent collaboration) told me within the same week that we'd make a good couple. I figured I should probably take the hint.

Now, I've never considered myself a dating expert, and this particular episode probably won't convince anybody otherwise, but hey, it worked in the end, so I should get to take SOME credit for it. My strategy was to make a deliberately ambiguous approach. I was overtly flirty, but was clearly just joking around (or WAS I?). I was either interested in being her friend or in something more, and she could decide which was the case. She went along with for a long while-- we spent our second date, for example, planning out our wedding. (I wouldn't recommend that particular course of conduct under most circumstances, by the way, but both of us agree that it was one of the best dates either of us had ever been on.)

At some point, she realized what I was up to. Not too much longer after that, she decided that we might as well try the thing out.

And thus it started.

Dominus Amulorum

2011-02-17T16:13:00.003-07:00

Quis Deus Hos Ira Tristi Contendere Iussit?

2011-02-03T09:30:00.002-07:00

The gods expressed their displeasure with the city of Chicago this week. My guess is it's because they let Rohm Emmanuel back on the ballot for mayor of Chicago. Whatever the reason, they let us hear it.

Si Modo Id Exprimere Latine Potuero; Difficile Factu Est, Sed Conabor Tamen

2011-01-13T14:04:00.002-07:00

One of the challenges of keeping up this blog is finding good Latin by which to title my posts. Every so often, I can do no better than to write something new, but that's something to be minimized to the extent possible. Problem is, I'm not exactly getting any better at reading Latin. The opportunities to do so in Law School are not quite as common as it used to be, unfortunately.

I'll say, too, that I'm not just a little impressed with the people that manage to post stuff once or twice a week, though I'm not always exactly able to say why. Part of it is that they manage to find the time. Somewhat more impressive is that they can find something interesting enough to write about, or that they're talented enough to do so in a readable fashion. None of those factors, I think, are as compelling as the one that suggest what kind of a person can keep churning out updates. It's a special kind of self confidence that leaves one not only unafraid of putting themselves under the scrutiny of the creeping mothers of the blogosphere, but certain that they are important and interesting enough to deserve that attention to begin with.

As for me, I'll let you know when I've got something interesting to say. Carry on.

De Ambitione

2010-12-10T10:36:00.002-07:00

Every year, thousands of athletes and fans of college football across the nation dream of finding their team at what can only be considered the utmost pinnacle of the sport, the New Mexico Bowl, in Albuquerque, New Mexico. For some, that dream has finally become a reality.

Sigh.

Haec Mulier Mihi Est Laudanda

2010-11-15T12:21:00.001-07:00

Any questions?

Gratiam Caesaris Sequor

2010-10-09T08:02:00.002-06:00

One of my friends here at the U of C is taking an introductory Latin class. Ah, the memories. Conjugations. Declensions. Verbs. Adverbs. Proverbs. Oh, what a fun that was.

So stirred was I by the fondness of the memories that I spent a good part of yesterday perusing one of my favorite websites: www.thelatinlibrary.com. The place is a repository for every somewhat decent or important Latin text we could get our hands on. It's the kind of thing you'd hope would happen for English someday, if we could get around that whole copyright thing. (Speaking of which-- http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Copyright_Term_Extension_Act. I have to admit, it seems a little bit silly to need to protect the copyright interests of Walt Disney and Sonny Bono, who, for metaphysical reasons, don't need money right now.)

Caesar's account of the civil war. Cicero's speeches. The Aeneid. Even some Roman law and early Christianity stuff. Good times were had by all present.

Regressus Sum

2010-09-23T12:40:00.002-06:00

So here I am again.

Law School II, part II of a three part series, started just a little earlier than was anticipated. I got an email today telling me that a faculty workshop would take place today, and students enrolled in Professor Strauss's workshop were invited to attend. A speaker from Harvard would come and talk about a paper he had written. Dutifully, I read the paper, and came down to the law school.

At that point, I figured out exactly what was going on. In the law school library, there's a room in the corner where faculty have met on a near weekly basis. They would have lunch, and discuss who knows what manner of secretive and substantial topics, but they were of sufficient gravity to merit congregating what looked like the bulk of the braintrust of the University of Chicago Law School. As it turns out, I had signed up for a class that would put me in that room along with them.

There have been occasions where I have felt more out of place and conspicuous than this one, but they aren't many. I did see my professor there and made sure I was allowed to be there; he confirmed, and told me to go get some food (so I did know I had permission to be there, thank goodness). The room's occupants were otherwise an all-star cast: my contracts, con law, property, and legal writing professors were all present, along with the dean and several other recognizable names. I thought myself wise to go find a table in the corner where nobody would notice the dumb 2L or wonder what he was doing there, but to no avail: the new dean of students came and sat right next to me.

All in all, a typical U of C experience: being in a room with a bunch of insanely smart people, discussing heady and weighty theoretical matters, all the while enjoying some great food and wondering whether or not the person who let you come made a big mistake.

Welcome back, class of 2012.

Cum Latine Dico

2010-08-29T01:55:00.003-06:00

Ut de omnibus rebus vitae meae pertinentibus libere dicam hoc monumentum constitui. Ratione tamen suffocante matris amore ruta vix significantiae aliquid dicere audeo. Verbum vicarium quod pronuntio non satius esse scio; ultra facere non possum. Nihil mihi praeter nugas sonare et canere ludos relinquit.

Itaque lingua latine dico, ut nemo me intellegere possit.

Arma Virumque Cano

2010-08-03T23:48:00.005-06:00

I've picked up two new recruits in my inanimate inner circle.

The first is named Maecenas, named for a confidant of Octavian who, along with Agrippa, aided him during his rise to power. Maecenas was also famous as a patron of the arts, a role befitting of his junior namesake.

World, meet Maecenas:

My other new inanimate friend is named Aeneas, for the survivor of the Trojan War, who, led by fate from the shores of Troy, arrived in Italy and give birth to the Roman race.

Behold, oh world, Aeneas:

Die XI Ante Idus Mensis Julii

2010-07-04T20:59:00.004-06:00

From my apartment window, I could see the boat sailing to the spot where it would be launching the fireworks display for the 4th of July celebration in the south side of Chicago. Perfect, I figured. I don't even have to leave the apartment. I thought it over, reconsidered, put on my shoes, and headed out to the promontory point. I sat myself down on a nice spot, a foot away from the lake shore, where I could feel the lake breeze blowing in and see both the boat and downtown Chicago. There was also a bunny hopping around which was clearly scared of all the people, but couldn't find its way out of the crowd. It hid under a rock. It may still be there, for all I know.

When the fireworks started, lucky for me, there was a group of kids about 10 feet away. Nobody should ever have to watch a fireworks display without at least a few kids around. Every burst and bang made them squeal. On a whim, I put in my earphones and tried to find a nice background song to play while watching. It didn't take long: Tchaikovsky's 1812 overture. You can only imagine my pleasure when I found that I had timed the song perfectly to climax right as the grand finale arrived. Then, on the way home, I found another fireworks display in the park just south of my apartment complex. Even this one was big enough to rival anything I had ever seen in Midway.

Moral of the story: when choosing whether to stay in or leave the apartment, venture.

De Patribus

2010-06-20T21:53:00.003-06:00

An interesting article I read today.

http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2010/07/are-fathers-necessary/8136/

I called my dad earlier today to wish him a happy father's day, and after talking with him for a while, I decided to do the same with my grandfather. For some reason, though, I couldn't find his phone number. I'm positive that I had it programmed in my phone before, but it wasn't there today, and none of my family answered when I called to ask if they had the number. So I decided to write a letter instead. I just got done typing it when I came across the above article.

It may be all the better that I wrote instead of calling, because I'm a little bit better at putting thoughts into words on paper than in speaking. I thanked my grandfather for all he has done for me and for my family. He's been one of those people I've always looked to when I have thought about what kind of person I want to be. He can hardly give a piece of advise that I don't take seriously and cherish. He's easily been one of the most influential people in my life, and has been for as long as I can remember.

I didn't think of my own dad in that same light for most of my years growing up. My dad isn't the kind of person who likes to be in the spotlight, where everybody can see all of the good that he does. He'll quietly do his work and let others thrive thereby. For some reason, I've never been able to explain my relationship with my dad without making him sound aloof, which could hardly be further from the truth. He coached my little league teams, attended my band concerts, went to my games and matches, listened to me speak at symposia, and has generally done everything he could to be a part of my life. It was about the time that I left on my mission that I really started to appreciate my dad for the man that he is and how much I hope to be like HIM, too.

So I read articles like this and try to imagine what I would be like without people like my dad and my grandfathers. My own thoughts are more consistent with THIS response:

http://www.cnn.com/2010/OPINION/06/20/warren.fatherhood/index.html?hpt=C2

I don't doubt that there are truly great individuals out there who have led remarkable lives without comparable paternal influences. Maybe there's nothing "obviously essential" about fathers in general. Even so, they have sure been essential to me.

Iter Birota

2010-05-22T22:16:00.005-06:00

I had a rather splendid bike ride this evening. Here's some stuff I saw.

Buckingham Fountain:

The Shedd Aquarium:

The Chicago city skyline:

Soldier Field, home of Da Bears:

Navy Pier:

The Chicago River:

And BUNNIES!

There were seriously tons of them running around.

All this, instead of two more hours of quality time with my Civ Pro horn book. Hooray, Chicago.

Cum Pecuniam Habeam

2010-04-28T17:59:00.002-06:00

There's this fantastic chair in the west reading room of the law school library:

It was designed by Eero Saarinen, the same person who designed the law school building itself. He did so when challenged to design the perfect lounge chair.

Well done, Mr. S. Well done.

This thing offers the ideal sitting experience. At once, it envelops and supports; it embraces and sustains. It is the platonic form of the chair.

One day, I will buy such a chair as this.

De Aestate

2010-03-14T09:02:00.004-06:00

Another quarter is come and gone. Between all the reading and studying, I managed to squeeze in a worthwhile activity or two. Such as:

Our FHE activity where we made dinner for the Ronald McDonald House. And:

The Law School Musical.

The last final was on Friday, and Saturday was the St. Patrick's day celebration:

Good times had by all parties therewith associated.

Also, this quarter I got an offer to work as a legal intern with ConSource, a non-profit in Washington, DC. I'm pretty excited about it. I have friends who are working there (and it was largely thanks to them that I got the offer), and I'll be working in DC, a great place to spend the summer on its own. Added to that are the family I've got there; in fact, I'll be working about three streets away from where Ricky works.

I get to play with Emerson and Finlay all summer long! Huzzah!

Dies In Vita

2010-02-18T11:11:00.004-07:00

7:00: Wake up. Look at clock. Decide, in light of the fewer than six hours of sleep from the night before, that being rushed throughout the morning is worth another ten minutes of sleep.
7:45: Finally get out of bed. Scramble to get books, bags, et cetera together and board bus.
8:00-9:00: Work out at the Ratner center. Pass by the Heisman trophy on display in the entrance on way to weight room. Note with disappointment that no attractive coeds are working out on the stair machines today. Add ten pounds to each set of squats. Butt sore.
9:20: Arrive at law school. Realize, with chagrin, that today is coffee mess day, and that food has been up for grabs for twenty minutes now. Shove coat and gym bag in locker, grab books, hit up the line. They are out of yogurt and pineapple, but there are still donuts, bagels, and hot chocolate. Gorge self.
9:45 to 12:05: Class. Today’s topic is the insanity defense and the “last clear chance” doctrine of tort law. Weep for Davies’ poor donkey, the soft-eyed martyr whose untimely death will not be forgotten so long as tort law is studied in this nation.
12:15: Phone interview with a DC public interest organization. Don’t really believe in the aims of the organization, but as beggars can’t be choosers, pretend to be very, very interested. Also, my nephews live in DC, and they miss their Uncle.
1:30 to 2:45: Class. Reaffirm belief that Professor Eric Posner’s true calling in life is stand-up comedy.
2:50 to 4:00: homework for the next day. Note with interest the Neves v. Wright, which was decided in my home state by the namesake of the University of Chicago's Dallin H. Oaks society, of which I am a member.
4:10 to 5:00: sit in on moot court proceedings. Interest in the topic is marginal, but the food at the reception afterwards looks really good.
5:00: head over to international house to help with props for the law school musical.
6:00 to 9:30: dress rehearsal and practice for the law school musical. Roles played include that of student, professor, zombie, and front half of elephant.
9:30 to 10:30: Join debate caucus, already in progress, of the Antient and Honourable Edmund Burke Society. In the process of single-handedly downing an entire 2-liter bottle of A&W’s finest, argue in favor of the evening’s resolution that the society favor elitists to populists, drawing attention to two instances wherein populists have brought about the end of proud and stable republics: Rome, and Star Wars.
10:30 to 11:30: join fellow Burke members at the pub. Beverages and merriment had by all.
12:00: realize that part of the reading for the next day has not been completed. Books are at the law school; decide to get up early the next day to do the reading before class. Scramble home. Manage to catch the late night bus home.
1:00: set alarm for 7:00 the next morning and crash.

Silentium Aureolum Est

2010-01-28T07:25:00.002-07:00

One thing I've learned is that not everything you have to say is worth saying.

Just letting you all know I'm still here.

O, Victoriam!

2009-12-01T19:03:00.001-07:00

In Media Res

2009-11-12T22:04:00.003-07:00

Interesting news coming out of Salt Lake this week:

http://www.deseretnews.com/article/705343921/Editorial-Mormons-and-gay-rights.html

The LDS church coming out in open support of gay rights legislation is a small, but very noteworthy step. A lot has happened in this arena over the last year or so, and this move does not sweep away the old wounds and bad PR, but it is an encouraging sign of good things to come for either side of the debate.

Somewhere along the way, it has become important to me to seek out both sides of an issue and try to make fair and informed decisions. It's a tendency that puts me in some interesting spots sometimes. For example, I've joined Chicago Law School chapters of both the very conservative Federalist Society and the notably liberal American Constitution Society, and have gotten very confused looks from both parties. That tendency often means that I find myself alone in the middle of a debate.

And when the debate gets heated, it can get awfully lonely in the middle. Particularly when the church announced its support of Proposition 8 last year, I found myself feeling very conflicted. Maybe it is odd that it bothered me as much as it did. I'm not a California resident, and I'm not gay. I really didn't have a dog in that fight. But whether it's because I try to look at both sides of a debate or because I just pick too many fights, I got myself in a lot of hot water over this one.

(I'll quickly note in passing that I do regret any instances wherein I may have offended others who were good enough to talk with me about this one. I never meant to be rude or insulting. If anybody who happens upon this feels that I treated them less well than they deserved, they have my apologies.)

Frankly, I've been skeptical as to the merits of the Church's position on this issue. There have been a lot of not so great arguments (on both sides), but what bothered me most was the entrenchment. There's something to be said for standing up for what you think is right, but with no dialogue, no communication, and no attempt to find a middle ground, the end result is that where you could have possibly found something that works for everybody, there are winners and losers.

I've been surprised to find how many people feel the same way I do. They believe in the church and they want to be loyal, but they can't feel certain that they can offer their support on the gay rights issue. This may ultimately be a positive result of the Church's engagement in the political fray. If, as a result of this, there arises a realization of the existence of "dissenters" and an understanding of the need to accommodate a wider range of personalities and ideologies under the scope of Mormonism, Prop 8 may be the best thing that ever happened to the church.

For people like me who feel stranded in the middle of the debate, the recent news is fantastic. I do wish that it had come earlier in the game. Whatever else one can say about Prop 8, it has been a public relations nightmare for the church. In the wake of a firestorm of press directed against the Church for involvement in Prop 8 and incidents such as the Main Street Plaza kissing episode, one can't say for sure that the gesture was motivated solely by a sincere desire to procure the rights of our fellow man, and not merely a PR move.

This is especially regrettable because it belies the importance of the event. In speaking in support of anti-discrimination laws, the Church has parted ways with the vast majority of churches on the religious right. This puts the Church in a position to lead the way in maintaining the integrity of its own principles while fighting to procure equal rights and treatment for others. It also significantly raises the possibility that both sides of this debate may leave it content that they got most of what they wanted.

A small step, perhaps, but one in the right direction: towards the middle.

Here's to step two.

De Bello Ludoque

2009-11-04T17:03:00.001-07:00

We had an intramural football game last night. On one play early in the second half, the QB threw the ball to me. The defender hit it away, and I couldn't get more than a finger on it, so the pass fell incomplete. As I was running back to the huddle, though, I noticed that I couldn't bend my ring finger on my left hand. I had a sub come in for me, and I took off my glove to see what was going on. Sure enough, the finger was pointing off in a strange and remarkable direction. Luckily, one of the players on the other team was a student at the medical school. She told me it was dislocated and that to fix it, I would need to pull it back into the joint. I grabbed the finger, gave it a good hard pull, and after two quick pops, it was back in place.

I put my glove back on and went back in the game. The very next play, I caught a pass and ran it in for a touchdown.

The thing is bruised up in a most beautiful fashion now, but most importantly, we won the game.

Vita Excolata Est

2009-10-16T16:55:00.001-06:00

Just added to the list of things I have actually said in class:

"That works great in PRACTICE . . . but how does that work in THEORY?"

I love this place.

Vniversitas Dominae Nostrae a Lacu

2009-10-04T00:07:00.005-06:00

Take THAT, bucket list!

Sacred Heart Basilica.

The Golden Dome, of Golden Dome fame.

The Grotto, as seen in "Rudy" (along with pretty much everything else in this photo array).

Interior of Sacred Heart. All artwork original.

Du Lac, of Notre Dame du Lac fame.

My buddy Joe, chasing a goose.

Beneath the dome.

I have an idea for Emerson and Finlay's Halloween costume.

You've heard of Touchdown Jesus; have you heard of First Down Moses?

And if you haven't heard of Touchdown Jesus (Stephanie, I'm talking to YOU here):

This is Touchdown Jesus.

And this is Touchdown Doug.

The Irish Guard, leading the band into the stadium. When I write my revisionist biography, I will include my time as a member of the Irish Guard.

The Cheerleaders. Note how blissful the Leprechaun seems to be.

The band.

The most beautiful sight these eyes have ever seen.

The team takes the field.

The game.

I've also been meaning to put up this video I took of a different kind of team sport. This is your prize for making it this far:

Crescat Scientia, Vita Excolatur

2009-09-23T22:48:00.005-06:00

And so begins law school.

It's a funny little thing. I go to a world class institution, with beautiful buildings like THIS:

And yet, I go to school in THIS building:

Huh.

Oh well. I live in THIS city:

O, Victoriam!

2009-09-08T20:23:00.005-06:00

Laus Deis

2009-09-03T01:01:00.002-06:00

Sometimes, the gods just smile on you. All there is to it.

My uncle just happened to have an extra ticket to Saturday's opening game at the new Taj Mahal of football, the Cowboys Stadium in Arlington, Texas. Naturally, I pounce. One visit to expedia.com later, I have my tickets in hand. So far, so good.

Then my uncle calls back to let me know that there is a spare seat on the charter flight going down before the game and going back up after. Saves me the trouble of renting cabs or hotels, and I'm only out for what money expedia wouldn't give back.

Which, as it turned out, happened to be none of it. Apparently, they will do a one time full refund on new accounts.

The bad news is that I've likely used up all the good karma just getting to the game. Hopefully, there will be enough left over for the game itself. The good news is that at the present, the gods are clearly smiling upon me.

M AGRIPPA L F COS TERTIVM FECIT

2009-08-20T13:36:00.002-06:00

Augustus owed much for his rise to power to his friend, lieutenant, and son in-law, Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa. Julius Caesar introduced the two to each other and sent them to Campania to be schooled shortly before the Ides fell. The two were lifelong friends. Agrippa's military prowess enabled Octavian to win the coming fights against the conspirators at Phillipi and against Antony and Cleopatra at Actium. Augustus employed Agrippa's architectural genius in enacting his public works, including the original pantheon. Without Agrippa, there could have been no Augustus.

With him in mind, I introduce the world to my new right hand man:

World, meet Agrippa, the laptop. Agrippa, world.

I suggest the two of you get to know each other, as one of you will be the tool that enables its bearer to conquer and subdue the other.

In Vino Veritas

2009-08-18T13:41:00.001-06:00

Root Beer doesn't get the credit it deserves.

That is all.

Ars Gratia Artis

2009-08-03T11:45:00.002-06:00

Dear Mr. Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky,

I have decided to forgive you for the Nutcracker Suite.

You probably don't realize how significant my pardon actually is. It is altogether possible that the Nutcracker Suite is the most un-pardonable offense against humanity that I have ever managed to forgive. You are, no doubt, aware of all of this, as you yourself detested the score. You and I both know that it was awful.

Whether you have forgiven yourself for this atrocity, I know not. But I have forgiven you.

That's how good the 1812 Overture is.

I heard it again on Saturday and it is STILL wonderful. Each blast of the cannon rolls over the audience like a great broom, sweeping away the former sin. Sheer magnificence. A contribution so great, it is as though the Nutcracker never happened.

Rest easy, Mr. T. (Or Mr. Ch, or Mr. Ч. Sorry about that whole bit how we don't know how to write Cyrillic letters.) You, sir, are square with me.

Sincerely,
Doug

Species Oppidi Mea

2009-06-16T23:37:00.002-06:00

It's Chicago.

I went out and saw both of the schools and the cities, and came away really impressed with Chicago Law. If I were choosing between living in New York and living in Chicago, I'd probably go live in New York, but as for choosing between the law schools, I'm going with Chicago. It has a smaller class size, some better placement, and mostly, a kind of personality that appealed to me. People go to NYU because it's as good as any other school; people go to Chicago because it's like no other school.

I'd kind of like to live in New York some day, but I only get one chance to go to law school.

Also: I have new material up at inthefoyer.blogspot.com. In the previous post, I asked what kinds of experiences others have experienced relating to how women who pursue education and career are perceived. This latest post is a summary of the responses I got. It was an interesting issue, to say the least.

Res Decernendae

2009-05-26T22:26:00.004-06:00

So the Dean of Admissions at Chicago Law called today and told me I was accepted.

Nuts. I was all good and decided on NYU. Now I have to think this through.

My friend Frank would like to extoll unto you the virtues of the city of Chicago.

For best effect, play both videos at the same time.

Res Novae

2009-05-15T14:19:00.000-06:00

I've got a new post at inthefoyer.blogspot.com on Education, Vocation, and the Stay-at-home Mother. Please check it out and weigh in.

Evangelizate

2009-04-19T09:21:00.002-06:00

Well, it's the end of the admission cycle. Looks like I'm going to NYU Law.

I had several very good offers (Georgetown, Texas, Duke, Michigan, et al.), but in the end, given my Sitz im Leben, I can do pretty much whatever I want with myself, and no place in the world says "do whatever you want" quite like New York City.

NYU sits right in the heart of downtown Manhattan, across the street from Washington Square, the place where George Washington took the oath of office to become the nation's first President. There's a really nice looking Roman-style arch marking the spot.

For more information on the beneficial lifestyle which New York City can offer, I would refer you to an acquaintance of mine, Mr. Frank Sinatra:

Res Dictae

2009-03-22T22:53:00.004-06:00

Random update, since I've managed to not say much lately.

Internship at the capitol has just concluded, followed immediately by . . . an internship at the capitol. During the past session, a lot of the work we did was with the Attorney General's office, which has offered to have me tag along at their place until I go off to law school. So the place that I work is STILL more awesome than where you work.

Unless you're Wendy, I think.

But also, I've come across two great quotes that I felt compared to share. The first is Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus in response to Sulla denying him a triumph due to his youth:

τὸν ἥλιον ἀνατέλλοντα πλείονες ἢ δυόμενον προσκυνοῦσιν.

That is: more men worship a rising sun than a setting sun. Awesome.

And this one, commenting on the decision between NYU and Columbia:

How many people get into both Columbia and NYU and feel they must go to Columbia because it's one tick higher in the U.S. News ranking, and then the whole time they are there they have this sense that life is so much better down there in Greenwich Village? Don't pretend you took anything more than that into account! List a lot of diverse factors to assuage your pain, but in the end, you know what you did.

Good stuff. Carry on.

De Humanorum Potestate

2009-02-08T22:58:00.001-07:00

My dad went to school in Hawaii and had me look at his eighth-grade yearbook today. There were bunches of regular-looking students and little cartoons decrying pollution. Grouped in a bunch of fifth graders, entirely undistinguished from any other student, was a little kid named "Barry Obama." You look at those little kids and you have absolutely no way of knowing that one of them, let alone which one of them, would one day become the leader of the free world. It was kind of an interesting experience. It may just change the way I look at groups of undistinguished masses from here on out.

Quo Laboro Mirabilius Est

2009-01-30T18:39:00.006-07:00

This week I started my internship with the Utah State Legislature. Here's a brief little snapshot:

The picture above is of the staircase leading to the chambers of the House of Representatives. An identical staircase on the east side of the capitol leads to the Supreme Court. On Thursday, I got to the Capitol just before 8:00 AM. I was there all day and didn't leave the Capitol until almost 9 PM. Usually, the place is thronging with people and voices, but as I walked out of my Senator's office, I found myself all alone in the Rotunda. I decided to try a little experiment to test the acoustics.

The iPod touch has a little inadequate speaker which will play, but is awfully quiet; I've had it in my pocket while playing and been unable to hear it. I put Beethoven's 9th on the speaker and put the iPod at the top of the staircase. Then I ran over to the top of the other staircase. Even across the distance, I could hear it playing.

Sweet.

In Prothyro

2009-01-21T23:59:00.005-07:00

Astrum Christi

2009-01-04T23:15:00.003-07:00

I was talking with a friend not too long ago about the star that appeared when Christ was born. I had heard somebody suggest that since stars are light years away from Earth, the light from that star had to be perfectly timed to reach Earth at the exact right moment to commemorate the birth of the Savior. I wondered if it was a lot more simple than that-- something like a comet, for example. (It is interesting to note that when Julius Caesar died, a "star" appeared on the first day of the games celebrating his life. The Astrum Caesaris played an important propaganda role in Augustus' rise to power, as it was generally acknowledged in the Roman world that the appearance of a new star was the sign that accompanied the apotheosis of divinity. When Caesar died, the star marked the transition from man to god; when Christ was born, it marked the condescension of God to humanity.)

Recently, however, I came across another suggestion, which I find most compelling, which explains the origins and nature of the star of Bethlehem.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WwnB7EV1lKY

Res Gestae

2008-11-30T08:59:00.002-07:00

So let me tell you about my week.

On Monday, I crammed through a slew of American Heritage papers. Bless their heats, some of them just don't know how to write. To vent a little frustration both over the papers and the recent unpleasantries experienced near East High School, I made a little video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k6CROOR2QN8

I sent a link to my dad, my brother, and a few friends. Nothing all that big.

Then on Tuesday, I flew out to Michigan to go play with Emerson and Finlay. I am pleased to report that they are still absolutely adorable. Ricky took me to see the law school and the dean of admissions on Wednesday, we played football on Thursday and again on Saturday, and on Friday we took the boys and went shopping in the morning and to a museum in the afternoon. Fun times had by all-- especially me.

Now, the boys get lots of good press, and all of it deserved, but I should take a moment to mention what a treat it was to spend the time with Ricky and Tisha in particular. They take such good care of the boys and of each other. I spent about half the trip watching the boys, and half the trip watching them, taking mental notes.

One tiny example: towards the end of the law school tour, Ricky and I drove by the Big House, where Michigan plays football. It is the largest football stadium in the country, seating over 100,000 people per game-- and it was undergoing expansion. Ricky mentioned that there was a good creamery nearby. Rather than just go, however, or merely ask permission, Ricky called called Tisha and asked if she wanted him to get her something. Even in the smallest of things, he's got her and her happiness in mind above all else.

I've told a few friends about growing up, and how to a large extent, life has been about trying to be more like Ricky. Years have gone by, and we've both moved out of home, but the more things change, the more they stay the same.

So when we were playing football, one of the guys in his ward asked me if I was the guy who made the Hitler video linked above. Apparently, it got linked to a few sports boards and took right off. Here are some of the responses:

http://www.kutv.com/content/blogs/sports/davidjames/story.aspx?content_id=7f392e84-8214-48da-a138-220db5d9d790
http://www.theconglomerate.org/
http://www.whiteeyebrows.com/hitler-weighs-in-on-the-byu-loss/
http://www.wikio.com/video/640926
http://thebigpodcast.blogspot.com/2008/11/hitler-reacts-to-byu-loss.html
http://www.thefansports.com/blog/1/2008/11/F5.Utah-BYU-and-Hitler.cfm

Dux Femina Facti

2008-10-30T21:02:00.002-06:00

A word on my dear friend and cousin, Wendy. A recent blog post expounded upon her busy life, as she's out accomplishing about everything she sets out to do:

http://chroniclesofwendy.blogspot.com/2008/10/counting-down-and-passing-time.html

What she DIDN'T mention, however, is her work as an alchemist. I'm sending in law school applications this week and Wendy has helped transform what was once a really lousy personal statement into a decent one. All this, in spite of the fact that she has no time for any of that. In fact, as I look at my resume, I have four or five published papers, and she's had a hand in editing most or all of them. If I ever earn my millions, I'll definitely owe her one.

That's Wendy. Would that there were more just like her.

Laetitiae Carmen

2008-10-18T01:16:00.001-06:00

O Freunde, nicht diese Töne! Sondern laßt uns angenehmere anstimmen, und freudenvollere. Freude! Freude!
Freude, schöner Götterfunken Tochter aus Elysium, Wir betreten feuertrunken, Himmlische, dein Heiligtum! Deine Zauber binden wieder Was die Mode streng geteilt; Alle Menschen werden Brüder, Wo dein sanfter Flügel weilt.
Wem der große Wurf gelungen, Eines Freundes Freund zu sein; Wer ein holdes Weib errungen, Mische seinen Jubel ein! Ja, wer auch nur eine Seele Sein nennt auf dem Erdenrund! Und wer's nie gekonnt, der stehle Weinend sich aus diesem Bund!
Freude trinken alle Wesen An den Brüsten der Natur; Alle Guten, alle Bösen Folgen ihrer Rosenspur. Küße gab sie uns und Reben, Einen Freund, geprüft im Tod; Wollust ward dem Wurm gegeben, Und der Cherub steht vor Gott.
Froh, wie seine Sonnen fliegen Durch des Himmels prächt'gen Plan, Laufet, Brüder, eure Bahn, Freudig, wie ein Held zum Siegen.
Seid umschlungen, Millionen! Diesen Kuß der ganzen Welt! Brüder, über'm Sternenzelt Muß ein lieber Vater wohnen. Ihr stürzt nieder, Millionen? Ahnest du den Schöpfer, Welt? Such' ihn über'm Sternenzelt! Über Sternen muß er wohnen.

Satius In Latine Est

2008-10-14T11:49:00.002-06:00

One of the reasons I do what I do is because stuff just sounds better in Latin.

The other day, one of my fellow students came to class wearing a T-shirt that read, "Save the World; it's where I keep all my stuff." I saw it and got a good chuckle out of it. So too my Latin Teacher, who came the next day with a proposition for any upcoming T-shirt contests:

Conservandum Est Orbis Terrarum
Ibi Habeo Quisquilias Meas

Beautiful.

Likewise chuckle-inducing was this recent article in the New York Times:

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/10/12/opinion/12dowd.html?_r=1&oref=slogin

De Rebus Familiae

2008-08-24T00:57:00.004-06:00

So with Ricky, Tisha, and the boys leaving for Michigan next week, we took some family pictures. The results may be seen in the slide show on the right. Some of us had a little more trouble keeping ourselves well composed than others . . . but we tease Ricky too much about that. So enjoy.

Et Dixit Doug, Fiat Pictura

2008-08-12T10:42:00.004-06:00

In accordance with the previous postulatio matris, I give you the following:

Ricky and Tisha have been spending the latter half of the summer in Murray, which means I get to play with Emerson and Finlay lots. They even know my name, even if they can't say it exactly right-- that's "Uncle Guh", at your service.

Res Gerendae

2008-07-27T17:53:00.002-06:00

So this last week, my sister Dantzel and I went to the Utah Symphony's Deer Valley festival and removed one item from my list of things to do before I die. I saw Tchaikovsky's 1812 overture live-- with cannons and everything. This has been a favorite song since I was a kid. Mom, no doubt, will fondly remember me making her play the CD and skip to the parts where they started shooting off the cannons so I could jump off the couches along with the explosions. And now I've seen it performed in person. And yes, it was awesome.

Naturally, it begs the question-- what else is on the above mentioned bucket list? Here are a few, though naturally, the list is not complete.

Go to a Rose Bowl game.

Not, by the way, the same as seeing a game in the Rose Bowl. Not to belay the significance of the building itself, but the Bowl game is more than just a game. It is the pinnacle event of all of College Football. I don't even mind if BYU isn't playing in the Rose Bowl (though that would be SWEET)-- I'd just like to go to one Rose Bowl game one of these days.

Be credited in a major media work.

With all due respect to STVDIA ANTIQVA, the Thetean, and other student journals, my bucket list requires that I be credited for something somewhat meatier. I'm not confining this particular requirement to academia, or even print. I'll write something for Newsweek, or be cast in a movie, or WHATEVER. But credited for something.

Stick it to the man.

Again, I'm leaving this one open ended, but the gist of it is that I'd love for one of those so-called "superiors" to be worked into a corner and be forced to admit that I've got them. Closest thing I've got to this one is the time that Mr. Wood told the class that the battle of Vicksburg and Gettysburg both ended on July 3rd. I corrected him, knowing that the forces at Vicksburg surrendered on July 4th. He snapped back at me and told me to shut up. When THAT didn't shut me up, he offered me a $50 dollar bet on the point. I didn't take the bet-- partly because of a faux sense of morality that said you're not supposed to bet, but more likely because his exuberant show of security made me second guess myself. He came back the next day and was able to smugly say, "you should have taken the bet." He was wrong. And he won. Had I taken the bet, I would have stuck it to the man. Someday.

Although, that very day, he claimed that Lincoln never called the Civil War a "Civil War." I immediately quoted the Gettysburg Address: "Now we are engaged in a great Civil War . . ." He quickly moved on.

Earn a title.

"Doctor" would be nice, even if "Professor" is somewhat out of reach. "Esquire" is good too, but a little fake-sounding. But in one shape or another, the right to insist that I have somehow lived a life so great that it would be an injustice to refer to me as merely "Mister." Unless it's "Mister President." But that's another matter.

Change a longstanding convention or way of thinking.

This may be overly simplistic, too, but I like the idea of getting people to think and reevaluate themselves, and perhaps find that what they once thought was right seems wrong, and what was wrong seems right.

So those are some of mine. How bout you kids?

Pedifollem Operior

2008-07-11T15:04:00.002-06:00

The worst part of the summer, far and away, is the fact that you have gone for seven months without football. Once August rolls around, you have practices and other little bits and snippets to allow you to believe that the misery will soon end, but when you're sitting right in the middle of July with nothing to keep you company except for baseball . . . it can be rough. There IS arena football, of course, but that's like dating a REALLY pretty girl's little sister. It's not like there's anything wrong with it per se, but inevitably, you'll be thinking about the other one the entire night.

You can therefore imagine how I feel whenever small reports start trickling in. Most of these come in the form of internet preseason polls and projections, none of which are worth the paper they're not printed on, but when you've got nothing else off of which to go, you do what you can.

Even MORE substantial are the nifty little replays that BYUTV does. My Ute friends . . . well, I guess it's just you, Scott, so FRIEND . . . still chuckle at this little thing that we do, but every now and again, BYUTV replays one of the classic BYU games. Not too long ago, it was Jim McMahon's Hail Mary to Clay Brown in the 1980 Holiday Bowl to beat SMU 46-45. More recently, it was Ty Detmer ensuring the Heisman with his superhuman performance against #1 Miami. A couple of recent ones have come up on the Mtn.-- not the least significant of which was last year's 17-10 triumph over Utah, complete with the 4th and 18 Hall to Collie pass.

For the briefest of moments, it's not July any more.

Annuit Coeptis

2008-07-03T15:07:00.002-06:00

I happen to be a big fan of the USA. Always have been. Given that this weekend is Independence Day, I thought I would post a few bits and pieces that always manage to get me just a little choked up.

Today, July 3rd, happens to be the anniversary of the third day of the Battle of Gettysburg and Pickett's charge. A few months later, following a two-hour long speech by the keynote speaker, President Lincoln gave a few words at the dedication of the national cemetery:

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

They say that when he gave the speech, only a few people applauded-- most didn't realize he had finished, since it was so short. As Senator Charles Sumner noted, Lincoln was wrong about one thing: "The world noted at once what he said, and will never cease to remember it."

Two other little bits. Nearly everybody knows the first verse of America the Beautiful and The Star-Spangled Banner, but not many people ever get to hear the later verses:

Oh Beautiful, for heroes proved
in liberating strife
who more than selves their country loved
and mercy more than life!
America! America!
May God thy gold refine
Till all success be nobleness,
And ev'ry gain divine!

O Beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam,
Undimmed by human tears!
America! America!
God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

And from The Star-Spangled Banner:

Oh thus be it ever when free men shall stand
Between their loved homes and war's desolation
Blessed with victory and peace, may the heaven rescued land
Praise the power that hath made and preserved us a nation!
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just
and this be our motto: IN GOD IS OUR TRUST!

And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph shall wave
o'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

De Patientia

2008-06-26T14:23:00.003-06:00

So the GRE is really boring.

I'm doing some studying to take the test in a few weeks, and thus far, it seems to be little more than basic recall of high school math, some reading comprehension, and a scouring test of your vocabulary. Here's hoping I don't get so bored with this thing that I just blow it all off.

Ab Vno Disce Omnes

2008-06-17T16:07:00.002-06:00

Most who have grown up as members of the church will remember at least one occasion, and often many, where as part of the lesson, class members had written up a big list of the characteristics one searches for in a potential spouse. I've come to find that the girls tended to have this lesson a lot more often than the guys, for whatever reason, and inevitably, the details on said lists grew to enormously impossible extents. It was always in good fun, of course, so there was no danger in putting down the unrealistic since they knew most of the details would be discarded eventually. At least, I don't THINK these girls are still awaiting their LDS British Lord with good teeth to pop around the corner.

One of the characteristics of MY dream girl, according to the list, is that she knows the answer to this all-important question: "What is the difference between the spread offense and the wishbone?" Naturally, I never expected anybody to actually know the difference-- though I was awfully impressed with one girl who looked up the question and reported the answer back to us the next day-- and so I never put that much stock in the thing. It was all in good fun.

In fact, I was just about ready to discard the notion that any girl would know that much about football until I mentioned the little game to my brother Ricky. He immediately turned to his wife, Tisha, and asked her the question. She replied, sine cunctatione, "Oh, the wishbone is where they line up behind the quarterback in the shape of a wishbone and run the option, and the spread is where they line up the wide receivers all across the field and spread out the defense so they can run a good passing offense."

Typical Tisha. Just when you think that nobody can be THAT perfect . . . .

Here's the thing-- if you know Tisha, you may have laughed at that little story, but you weren't surprised. The word "perfect" is never too far away from any conversation about Tisha (she'll deny it, of course, but we all know better). I haven't known her that long, but she has quickly become one of my heroes. She met, dated, and married my brother while I was on my mission, and as soon as it started to become clear that she was in for the long haul, she started writing me as diligently as any member of the family-- in fact, only Mom wrote more often. She has always been kind, always been cheerful, and I've never once heard her complain about anything. She was even so kind as to provide not one, but TWO adorable little baby boys just to make sure we wouldn't have to wait so long for our turn to play with them. Tisha is just one of those superwomen you don't think can possibly exist, until you meet her and realize that there really are people that remarkable.

Portico Arachidis Pareo

2008-06-12T18:40:00.001-06:00

Due to popular request, I have put up all of my pictures from Rome on that little slideshow thingy over there on the right. Enjoy.

De Rebus Spiritualibus

2008-06-10T17:37:00.002-06:00

So I got to hear another diatribe not too long ago on the dangers of "intellectualism," and how intellectualism is a poison to spirituality, and all that.

I don't get it.

All around me, and especially at the BYU, I hear talk of how to “balance” the intellectual and the spiritual. It comes up from time to time in Sunday school, in those late night discussions with roommates—even on teachers’ evaluations they ask the students if the teacher properly applied spiritual matters insofar as the course material allowed.

Frankly, I’ve never understood why the division is made between “spiritual” and “intellectual” matters. I don’t believe the separation is a natural one—D&C 29:34 seems to imply as much—and that any distinction is essentially artificial, as far as I’m concerned. I’ve felt the spirit just as strongly in Greek 311, studying the Gospel of John in its original Greek, as I have in any Sunday school class—and why not, if the objective of either is to gain further light and truth? And if this is the case, why should the spirit not be present in Econ 111, when learning about the interaction of the laws of supply and demand? If Brigham Young instructed Karl G. Maeser that he should not teach so much as the arithmetic tables without the spirit of the Lord present, does that not suggest that any “intellectual” pursuit inherently ought likewise to be a “spiritual” one?

Learning, growing, and gaining further knowledge has always been an important part of my own spiritual pursuits. I don’t understand why one side of the fence feels any need to shun the other, when the objectives of both are one and the same. The intent of the “spiritual” is the worship of a being whose glory is intelligence, light, and truth.

In fact, the two are codependent. In his warning against intellectualism in 2 Nephi 9:28-29, Jacob notes the tragic flaw of too many intellectuals: “When they are learned they think they are wise, and they hearken not unto the counsel of God, for they set it aside, supposing they know of themselves, wherefore, their wisdom is foolishness and it profiteth them not.” But it is not learning itself he condemns—“to be learned is good, if they hearken unto the counsels of God”—it is the neglect of things spiritual in favor of the intellectual. Likewise, Joseph Smith rebuked the saints for their spiritual “zeal” which was “not according to knowledge,” noting that under such a spirit, many of the saints “were darkened in their minds, in consequence of neglecting the duties devolving upon themselves.” It seems clear that to divorce intellectualism from spirituality would have a similar effect as the deprivation of works from faith.

The simultaneous warnings are not contradictory. For both for the intellectuals who shun the spiritual and the spiritually-minded who shun intellectualism, the warning is not against intellectualism and spiritualism, but against pride, the great inhibitor of light and truth. To sneer at the spiritual or to condemn the intellectual ultimately prevents the acquisition of what knowledge might have otherwise been available to the detriment of the one who so acts.

We ought not to bemoan the interaction of the spiritual and the intellectual, nor fear to expose truth to truth or panic if two truths seem incompatible at first glance. We ought then to recognize that our knowledge, whether it is gained through intellectual or spiritual pursuits, is both imperfect and incomplete, and make adjustments as necessary. I see no other appropriate course of action for any who believe that ultimately, all truth will be circumscribed into one great whole.

Ave Roma

2008-05-27T14:34:00.002-06:00

I get the chance to break this rather sizable hiatus with something significant. I just got back from Rome. Here are some pictures:

Non Avum Tuum Vides?

2008-04-20T20:47:00.003-06:00

The remarkable thing about the way my grandfather does things is that he so acts such that every member of the family thinks that they are the favorite child, grandchild, great-grandchild, et cetera. That's really quite the feat, considering the fact that our little clan is rapidly approaching the size of a small army. I always thought this somewhat humorous, as a matter of fact, since the truth is, only two members of the family can really lay much of a legitimate claim to preferred status. One of them is my uncle, who holds the title of Favorite Son with none contesting the claim. The other is myself, since I actually happen to be his favorite grandchild. (Now, dear cousins, please don't raise a ruckus over this, if you haven't realized this yet-- you surely must have seen this coming for years now.)

In all seriousness, I don't suppose that I run too far afield in saying that my grandfather is a particularly remarkable man. His occupational and ecclesiastical accomplishments are enough on their own to fill a resume to overflowing with a list of achievements sufficient to make any man proud. Such a life surely merits one's respect. What makes him all the more remarkable a man is that he recognizes that none of that is more important than his family; no title is more important to him than those of Father, Grandfather, and Great-Grandfather.

Whether I'm his favorite or not may be an issue to be decided on another occasion; nevertheless, I've always felt a special connection with him. It may just be that of all my family members on either side of my family, we are the only two with perfect pitch. Truth be told, that's really the only mutually shared characteristic in which I feel safe in making a comparison in which I don't pale. If at times I consider myself somewhat smart, I need do nothing more than pick up a book, listen to a talk, or read an article of his to realize that I've still got a long ways to go.

Two fairly recent realizations counterpose that thought. As far back as I can remember, mingled with familial piety and ancestral reverence has been a touch of hero worship. I would not have said that my grandfather was a perfect person by any stretch, but if you had pressed me on the issue, I would have been forced to admit that I didn't really believe that he wasn't. Only within the last five or so years have I come to realize that he is a person just like the rest of us-- which I say only for the sake of honoring him. Just like any of us, he is tried, he learns, he grows, he improves. Knowing that he walks life's road just like I do, contrary to what I might have once expected, has not diminished any sense of awe I have towards him; rather, recognizing that here stands an example of life lived right, I love him all the more.

His example has a lot to do with my second realization. I remember thumbing through his biography once and noticing how many things we had in common, especially when I was reading about his earlier years. I can't help but feel that when he was my age, we shared many of the same gifts, characteristics, and potential. I see in my grandfather a lot of not only what I hope to be, but what I can be, if I can just figure out how to do this "life" thing right.

To be sure, Grandfather would be the first to balk when being praised to the stars, earnestly pointing out that any success or achievement he managed to pull off came about only because of obedience to the gospel of Christ. I suppose this all the more reason to love him. Besides, I see nothing wrong with honoring a man about whom, when it can be hard to figure out the answers to that all-important question of what Jesus would do, I can ask myself, "What would Grandfather do?" and realize that the first question wasn't so hard after all.

Semper Hic Erro

2008-04-02T21:59:00.004-06:00

So I've always had something of an affinity for Superman. Never needed a reason why; as far as I have been concerned, there's never been a reason not to. After all, it's Superman.

I've found that not everybody agrees. It's the strangest thing; the guy's apparently too good. I had a roommate with whom I discussed preferred superheroes. He ranted and raved about Spiderman and Batman, but Superman? What fun is a character with no flaws? Where's the conflict? And how exciting is a plot with a protagonist whose powers exceed all bounds?

The thing that makes Superman different than Batman and Spider-Man is that issue of identity. Peter Parker was Peter Parker well before that spider bit him; Bruce Wayne was a rich snob years before his drive for revenge compelled him to become the Dark Knight. But Superman was Superman long before he was Clark Kent. Spider-Man and Batman are the alter-egos which enable Peter Parker and Bruce Wayne to be heroes; Clark Kent is the facade which lets Superman take part in the real world.

It makes for a strained relationship. The world can't identify with Superman; he's too good, he's too powerful-- he can't even lie. But that bumbling, awkward, out-of-place Kent is just that-- out of place. It's not him, it's not who he really is. But the world doesn't get to see that.

The problem most prominently and painfully manifests itself in the case of his love interest, Lois Lane. Clark Kent can't possibly capture the interest of somebody like Lois Lane. Besides, she's in love with Superman. Just like the rest of the world, she doesn't see past Clark Kent; she doesn't see who he really is.

In essense, Superman lives in a world that doesn't know if it really needs him. Consequentially, Superman never really fits in; he doesn't really belong here. It is as much a part of his identity as the S-shield and the red cape. Though the world needs him desperately, he can never really be a part of the world.

"Even though you were raised as a human being, you are not one of them. . . ."

Perditi In Nocti Valle

2008-04-01T19:57:00.002-06:00

My esteemed colleague, W. Wittwer (who, much to my dismay, is NOT running for President this year), recently posted on the merits of musical theater, and in particular, Les Miserables. Said post actually comes in the midst of a renaissance of sorts in my inclination toward Les Miserables, which has made its way once more onto the ipod. I don't know if my present Sitz im Leben has inclined me more to tragic tales of miserable suffering, or if I'm old enough now to realize that "Master of the House" is actually quite funny. Either way, the stuff just speaks to you.

I usually don't try my hand at poetry, because somebody has already written what you're trying to write, and they've done it much better than you ever could. One particular exemplum:

Do you hear the people sing,
Lost in the Valley of the Night?
It is the music of a people
who are climbing to the light.

For the wretched of the earth
there is a flame that never dies;
Even the darkest night will end
and the sun will rise.

They will live again in Freedom
in the Garden of the Lord;
They will walk behind the plowshare,
they will put away the sword

The chain will be broken
and all men will have their reward.

Will you join in our crusade?
Who will be strong and stand with me?
Somewhere beyond the barricade
is there a world you long to see?

Do you hear the people sing?
Say, do you hear the distant drum?
It is the future that they bring
when tomorrow comes.

Aut Viam Inveniam Aut Faciam

2008-03-27T23:19:00.002-06:00

The things you do sometimes.

This Saturday, I will be leaving Provo at 6:30 AM in order to drive to Logan, Utah, to spend the bulk of the day at a conference wherein students will be presenting on papers especially written for the occasion-- take, for example, my humble offering on East Tennessee and the secession crisis.

I kinda wonder what I'm doing with my life sometimes.

De Profundis Clamavi

2008-03-21T00:05:00.003-06:00

I always wonder how much to say about stuff, never knowing how many people actually come onto this little page of mine anyway. Once upon a time, I had regarded this blog thing as perhaps slightly better than an informal journal that Mom would read a lot. In order to generate much interest, you either need incredible writing talent and boundless charisma (e.g., Wendy Wittwer), or preposterously beautiful kids (e.g., Emerson and Finlay). My little corner of the universe remains more or less my own, and I am typically content to let anybody who is interested in the res gestae meae weigh in whenever they should feel so inclined. That's one of the great things about learning classical languages-- nobody gets to know what I'm saying unless I let them know, thus allowing me to remain safely aloof from the oi polloi. I do wonder from time to time if that's the best way to go about it. No man's an island, or so they say, and as such, I try to make a point of speaking on occasions when I normally would not.

Yet I've managed to say nothing thus far-- why not carry on?

So I will keep my own affairs as mysterious as possible and leave you with this instead.

Allie Marsh is one of my very favorite people. One of my favorite stories to tell about my family is of Allie and her senior year. When she got cut from the high school cheerleading team, she tried out for the more prestigious drill team-- and made it. She was her class's homecoming queen, not just because she's stunningly pretty. She is also one of the kindest, sweetest people any of us know.

She gets mad at Dad and me because we don't say we love her (and then she gets mad at me if I do. Can't win 'em all, I guess) so for the record:

Love ya, Allie.

Querendum mihi non est

2008-03-11T00:56:00.001-06:00

They say you're not supposed to complain excessively when things aren't going so well.

Suffice it to say, I apologize for not writing much lately.

Fac Vt Finiat

2008-03-04T21:57:00.003-07:00

So how come everybody else gets a week off right now, and I don't?

De Gustibus Non Disputandum Est

2008-02-18T17:42:00.001-07:00

For those who find themselves in need of a good laugh: I came across this website the other day. Enjoy.

http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.wordpress.com/

Cum Te Sit Deus Usque Iterum Cogrediamur

2008-02-02T16:01:00.000-07:00

I haven't told many people this story; now seems as good a time as any.

My last letter I got while I was on my mission was from my Grandmother and Grandfather Nelson. They expressed their love and gratitude, told me how proud they were that I had served an honorable mission, and said how excited they were to see me again, promising that "hugs and kisses await." A few days later, before I made hit home, my grandmother unexpectedly died. I came home to a shocked and heartbroken family.

I was never bitter about having my triumphant return overshadowed; truth be told, I was content to be out of the spotlight, and I consider it altogether providential that both me and another missionary cousin returned at a time when the family needed something to be happy about. But I'll never forget how heartbroken my poor Grandfather was. Anybody who ever saw my Grandmother and Grandfather together can attest that THAT was what life and love was meant to be like, and to see him without her for the first time was a heart-wrenching experience.

In spite of the hurt, my Grandfather handled himself remarkably well, seeming never to lose his poise or composure (likewise, no surprise to anybody who knows him). This was especially true when President Hinckley arrived at the viewing. My Grandfather, ever mindful of the Prophet and his well-being, "assigned" me and another cousin to watch out for President Hinckley while he was in the room with us. He asked us to stand at his side and make sure that he wasn't thronged by the crowd until he could make it back to his bodyguards and personal escorts, which meant little m ore than that he would have two groupies following close by instead of twenty. It did give my Grandfather an opportunity to introduce me to President Hinckley. He told him that I had recently returned from my mission in the Canary Islands, to which President Hinckley responded, "I know where that is! I've been there!"

I got to tag along for a minute or two until President Hinckley could make his way to the exit. He was not by any means unfamiliar with what my Grandfather was going through, having suffered the loss of his wife less than a year earlier, and he knowingly, appropriately, and lovingly acknowledged what we were going through. Even so, just by being there, he brought a spirit into the room like a light shining in the darkest corner. So long as he was there, you just knew things would be all right. There was a plan, there was a purpose, and no matter how hard things could be, they would work out in the end.

He also spoke at the funeral. Mormon funerals are an interesting thing; so certain are we of the resurrection and the life to come, that rather than a time of mourning and sorrow, funerals instead tend to be a celebration of sorts-- of life, of laughter, of the reunion with friends and family long gone, and the future reunion we will one day enjoy with them. Talks by family and other church leaders were along these lines, and all of them appropriate and comforting. Only President Hinckley, last of all to speak, acknowledged the harsh reality of death's sting. There would be long nights, he warned my Grandfather, of loneliness, sorrow, and despair, which all the well-wishing and testimony in the world would not dispel. Only after this harrowing experience would the peace and assurance come in the still of the night.

That's when it all came crashing down on me. That great reunion that I had been anxiously awaiting was denied; the promised hugs and kisses were never to be. Far worse than that, however, was that brief glimpse of what it was my Grandfather was going through. I remember standing outside of the chapel, a few feet away from the hearse where they had loaded the casket, tears streaming down my face, when somebody tapped me on the shoulder. It was one of President Hinckley's bodyguards, clearing the path for the Prophet as he made his way to the car. I stepped aside to let him through, and watched as he waved to those in the crowd who watched him leave. As he was passing by, he saw me standing to the side. He took a step or two out of his way to pat me on the shoulder and ask, "How are you?" I nodded and responded, "I'm fine, President, thank you." He gave a light smile, and shuffled back on his way to the car. I stood and watched him go, feeling that same light and that same reassurance then as I had felt a few days earlier, knowing that through all the tough times to come, things would be all right. I wondered how it was that a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders could still think to see some nobody out of the corner of his eye and offer a little comfort to him.

Those two little experiences are as much interaction with President Hinckley as I ever had. He too is gone now, and the world isn't quite what it used to be without him.

Iterum Incipimus

2008-01-13T19:04:00.000-07:00

Well, here we go again. Winter semester, up and running- even if I'm not.

Christmas break was great, except for the abrupt ending. This semester, I have done something that I have never before done in my collegiate career: I cried uncle. Since last fall was such a beast of a semester, I am taking fewer hours working and dropped a class based on its excessively demanding workload. It doesn't mean this semester will be easier than the last semester, by any means, but hopefully it will diminish the degree of difference betwixt the two and leave me with sufficient play time.

Speaking of which. I went skiing yesterday for the first time in quite a while. It was quite the adventure. As we were nearing the resort, we saw cars lining the roads leading into the parking lot and an attendant waving us onto the next parking lot. The second parking lot was also full, as was the small lot adjacent to that lot. Then we got stuck in a snowbank while trying to navigate back onto the main road. After a little digging and pushing, my dear Bonnie was excised from its gelid trap, and we parked on the main road and hiked about a quarter mile to the resort. Once we got on the slopes, a good time was had by all parties involved, but getting there was NOT half the fun.

Invicti Sumus

2007-12-23T13:16:00.002-07:00

Just got back from the Vegas Bowl. More to come-- but I found this picture on the Deseret News website and thought it worth sharing:

Novis Rebus Studens

2007-12-19T16:08:00.000-07:00

Finals week. Gotta love finals week. I just polished off my third, and I have two more to go. At the moment, I am trapped in the rather perilous position of feeling like if I stopped studying RIGHT NOW, I would probably still end up with the same grade that I would get if I put in another two or three hours of work toward the two remaining tests. I'll do it anyway, of course. I guess.

In other news: one of the students of the class I just finished happens to be the editor of STVDIA ANTIQVA, a student journal to which I submitted a paper on the Battle of Marathon some months ago. He brought with him to the final my copies of the journal, complete with my own article published right in the middle of the thing. It's always nice to get something of your own in print, of course, and I happen to think it was a pretty good little article (which is why I am avoiding having to read through it now that it's in print!), but I can't help but feel just a little out of place when I read the other articles. Exempli gratia: here are the titles of four of the articles in said journal. See if anything sticks out a little much:

The Israelite Origins of the Mandaean People
"Have Ye Inquired of the Lord?" Inquiry Patterns in the Bible and the Book of Mormon
Clement of Rome as Seen Through and Apostolic Paradigm
The Battle of Marathon: The Stunning Victory and its Contribution to the Rise of Athens.

One of these things is not like the other . . . .

Di Immortales, Pulchrissima Est

2007-12-04T08:57:00.000-07:00

A few more pictures, this time from the First Presidency Christmas Devotional. Due to connections in Salt Lake, we had pretty decent seats, as shown here in this unforgivably fuzzy picture:

This is my esteemed associate Jordyn, who, over the past few weeks, has been so gracious as to allow me to take up inordinate amounts of her time. Interestingly enough, she detests having her picture taken. She probably likes it even less when I go and post them on the internet a few hours later-- which is why she doesn't know about this blog (I hope). I usually have to sneak pictures in when she think's I'm not up to something. She actually let me take this one, since I promised not to sneak in any more pictures when she's not paying attention. And by the way, she did NOT know the reason why we got such great seats at the beginning of the evening. But she met him before the day was over. That was a fun little experience for all. :)

So afterwards we went and saw some of the lights on Temple Square. Here are a few lousy pictures from that episode:

Veni, Vidi, Vici.

2007-11-24T19:02:00.000-07:00

I got back a few hours ago from the BYU-Utah game, which BYU won by a score of 17-10. A tip of the hat to the Utes, who made a great game of it and nearly pulled it off-- before leaving Austin Collie wide open on a 4th and 18 play and deciding it was no fun trying to tackle Harvey Unga. Good game, good game.

I got a digital camera as a congratulatory gift for having gone 24 full years without dying, and I brought it to the game. A few snapshots:

LaVell Edwards Stadium

A bunch of crazy fans. The picture seemed quite necessary.

The view from our seats

Us, in the stands

Us, on the field. Victorious.

Satius in Latine Videtur

2007-11-05T19:35:00.000-07:00

The latest in a line of things that just sound better in Latin:

Jack Nicholson, from A Few Good Men:

VERITATEM NON FERE POTES!

In mundi qui mures habet vivimus, O puer, et haec mures armatibus servanda sunt. Quid ille faciet? Tu? Tu, Adiutor Weingberg? Cura magis quam quae fortasse prendere possis habeo. Plores Santiagem, et devoves classiarios. Illa luxuria habes. Luxuria non sciendi quod scio habes: ut mortem Santiagoriam etsi tragicum vitas probabiliter salvaverit, existentiaque mea, etsi turbamenta incomprehensibilisque tibi, vitas salvaverit. Veritas non volas quod in alto loco de quo in festum non communices, me in ille murum volas; me in ille murum eges. Verbis sicut honos, codex, fides utimur. His verbis sicut spinis vitae gestae aliquid tegendo utimur. His sicut ludis utimur. Neque temporem neque propensionem mei excusandi ad virem qui oritur sub tecta teguminis qui sibi offero modemque quo id offeram interrogat habeo. Ut gratias des et discedas malo; si non, ut arma carpas castrumque vigiles admoneo. Uterque quid mereri puteas nihil curo.

Progressus Sum

2007-11-04T18:59:00.001-07:00

In the spring of 2005, Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve severely chastised the single young men of the church for not asking girls on dates. I felt guilty and asked a girl out that very night.

In the fall of 2007, Elder Dallin H. Oaks repeated his enjoinder. I had scheduled a date for the following Friday two hours earlier.

Making progress, I suppose.

Quid Hic Titulus Dicit, Non Scire Potest

2007-10-29T18:22:00.000-06:00

So get this. I had one of those weeks last week-- the kind with three midterms, a stack of papers to grade, all that jazz-- but at least I had a football game to look forward to, right? Wrong, I am told-- they cancel the BYU game. Denied.

Given my natural disposition to dispense of my free time at a preposterous rate, I managed to lay that much more of my life upon the alter of Academia. I turned in a proposal this week to the people at ORCA for a grant that would enable me to write on a paper topic I have been throwing around as of late: the influence of Achilles in the first book of the Iliad upon what would eventually become Greek democracy. For those who may not be familiar with the story, it goes along these lines: Agamemnon, king of the Achaeans, is forced to release his spoils of the war, the daughter of the priest of Apollo. In her stead, he takes the prize that had been given to Achilles, the maiden Bryseis. Achilles is understandably upset, not just because he is being deprived of his spoils, but because Bryseis was dear to him-- and apparently, the feeling was mutual, as she left "unwilling." Bryseis was much less a slave and much more a wife to Achilles; perhaps he was plenty justified in being a little peeved. In defiance, Achilles refuses to fight for Agamemnon any longer. The especially interesting thing is this: Zeus, who would normally side with the king, sides instead with Achilles. I'm going to look into this and see how Greek politicians, scholars, philosophers, and thinkers regarded this story, especially pertaining to the influences it had upon their own democratic structure. If I'm especially successful, I'll be able to establish the ideological geneology of democracy all the way up to Achilles.

I also decided to apply for a study abroad program in Athens this summer. It seems quite prestigious, as they only take 20 students per program, of which there are only two per year, so it would be quite the feat if I can get admitted to the program. Here's hoping I can go find some nice philosophile with a big wallet who likes to give poor kids money to go see Greece.

μῆνιν ἄειδε θεὰ

2007-10-10T18:17:00.000-06:00

Yeah, I believe this semester is winning. Hard to tell at this point, since I've not gotten back scores from either of the two tests that I've taken thus far, but there's plenty of fun waiting around the corner under which I shall be buried.

Plenty of other thoughts I ought to go into, I suppose. But of course, I don't. Just wanted to let the reader(s) know I'm still here.

Ultimum Optimum Omnium Est

2007-09-27T23:59:00.000-06:00

So it's late on a Thursday night. Everybody's got homework to do, and most of us have to get up early in the morning for school. Everybody's tired and burned out from a long, hard day of work.

Time to go to IHOP.

I am reasonably certain that the later the hour, the more tired you are, and the more reasons you have for not going to IHOP, the more fun it is when you go. The IHOP theory of inverted functionality is likely to become a PhD dissertation some day. Be aware, any plagiarizing scum who may roam the trackless wastelands of the blogosphere, that if you try to take credit for this my theory, I will find you.

Sic eat quicumque Douglastis afferat bona.

Eos Nondum Volce Volnero

2007-09-20T19:52:00.000-06:00

Well, this semester may have given this whole blogging experiment a hasty death. It feels like I may never have free time again. (I'm not kidding anybody, of course-- grad school is bound to be worse. Ricky would probably laugh at me if I griped about having too much to do. But then again, he gets to play with Finlay.)

One of the interesting aspects of studying classics is that you get to study all of this fascinating stuff that nobody else cares about. I could spend a few hours extolling to all the virtues of the dactylic hexameter epic meter, or of Cicero's masterful construction of sentences . . . yeah, I just lost two or three of you, didn't I?

Sigh.

O Tempora! O Mores!

2007-09-07T16:55:00.000-06:00

Yeah, that got ugly in a hurry. The first week of school is done and already I'm swamped.

The good news is, I'm swamped with things from which I actually kind of get a relative amount of enjoyment. Bad news is, there's a ton of it, and to make matters worse, it's right in the middle of football season. If ever there was a time wherein man should be allowed to neglect all duties and pay proper respects to Sportcenter, it is now. Instead, it is my lot to become more acquainted with my good friends Homer, St. John the Beloved, and Cicero.

But that's not to say that it's not good stuff. Cicero is a master orator, to say the least. We are reading the Catilinarian Orations at the moment, wherein Cicero blasts away at a fellow Senator by the name of Catiline, who had been plotting a revolution that would involve a massacre of the nobles. Little by little, as Cicero delved deeper and deeper into his philippic oration, the senators present moved away from Catiline, leaving him alone to stew under the fiery rhetoric of the master speaker. After a weak attempt to defend himself, Catiline rushed home, packed his bags, and fled. For his role in quelling the conspiracy, Cicero was given the honorific title, "Pater Patriae"; Father of his Country.

Tranquillitas Ante Tempestatem

2007-08-28T15:00:00.000-06:00

Things are about to happen, and they are about to happen quite rapidly.

The beginning of school is now a week away, and roommates will begin trickling in starting Thursday. The relative boredom that now envelopes my existence will be suddenly and swiftly replaced by a fierce competition between academia and society for my time. I have usually been able to handle whatever work load I've tried to lift-- in fact, I tend to do better when I am more challenged-- but I may have done myself in this semester. Greek 301 (selections from the Iliad), Greek 311 (The Gospel of John, in Greek), Latin 302 (selections from the works of Cicero), History 373 (Civil War Era), and Classics 430R (on Classical Piracy-- yes, you read right). Count 'em: five 300 level classes; and three of them will have me reading from the Greek/Latin, which, as fun as it is, takes a lot of time. I've had one professor say that classics students make the transition from Classics to Law School with remarkable facility, with little adaptation required to transition to the work load required of law students. My inclination at the present is to believe him.

The looming task of res faciendi, however, are hardly able to diminish the sheer glory that awaits the commencement of this year's Football season. We picked up tickets yesterday, having first assembled a sizeable group. A joint effort to assemble contingencies resulted in a group nearing about 75 people in all, which is enough to ensure that the people sitting in the row behind me won't be annoyed if I happen to be somewhat excited by the game. The long, football-less winter/spring/summer being upon its deathbed is very nearly fair compensation, methinks, for the obligated return to the world of scholastics.

2007-08-20T17:40:00.000-06:00

I am now comfortably lodged betwixt the end of the Summer term and the beginning of the Fall Semester-- a two week period of which will consist my summer vacation. That should be all the time that is necessary for me to become stupefyingly bored and ready to plunge into the depths of what should be my toughest semester yet. A "greater share of honour," I suppose; what glory could I lay claim were I to lift a lighter load?

I made a nifty little discovery not too long ago. One of the reasons I learned Latin was so I could read the Vulgate; Greek, to read the New Testament. Dibbling into these other languages opens up great new avenues of study. Exempli gratia: the Greek words "peitho" and "pisteuo."

Spartan law dictated that no Spartan ever retreat or surrender. When faced with certain death in the defense of their homes and their country, Spartans were taught to value an honorable death as the greatest glory they could achieve. Hence, when Spartan warriors marched off to battle, their mothers would give the departing their shields and whisper to them, "With it, or on it." They were to return victorious and with honor, or not at all. And they meant it-- the story is told of one warrior, the lone survivor of a costly battle, who came home and reported the failure to his family. His mother grabbed a nearby tile, hurled it at his head, and killed him on the spot, and lamented that he had fled. (For some astounding quotes, check this page out: http://penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/E/Roman/Texts/Plutarch/Moralia/Sayings_of_Spartan_Women*.html)

This was a fundamental part of the upbringing of Leonidas and his 300, who died at Thermopylae. They were faced with retreat, surrender, or death, and by their adherence to the laws of Sparta, they chose the latter. An epigram was engraved and placed at the spot of their last stand, and though the original has been lost, a new stone with the epigram marks the spot to this day. It reads:

Ὦ ξεῖν’, ἀγγέλλειν Λακεδαιμονίοις ὅτι τῇδε
κείμεθα, τοῖς κείνων ῥήμασι πειθόμενοι.

Translated, it reads:

Go tell the Spartans, oh stranger passing by
That here, obedient to their laws we lie.

The word for obedient, πειθόμενοι, comes from the greek "peitho." A root of "peitho" occurs some 55 times in the New Testament. When used as an active verb, it shows persuasion; for example, Acts 26:28-- "Almost thou persuadest me." When in the passive (as in the epigram above), it can mean "to be persuaded", as in Romans 8:38-- "for I am persuaded"; it can also mean "trust," as in Matthew 27:43-- "he trusted in God"-- or "believe," as in Acts 28:24-- "And some believed the things which were spoken, and some believed not." In all: it can mean to "be confident, believe, have confidence, misc, obey, persuade, trust."

But that's the small stuff. "Pisteuo" occurs 248 times in the New Testament, and 239 of those 248 times it is translated as "believe." The dictionary entry defines it as to "be committed to one's trust, be committed unto, put in trust with, believe; a believer; to commit to (one's) trust, commit unto, believed, believers, believes, believing, do, entrust, entrusted, entrusting, has faith." The noun form, "pistis," is the word most commonly translated as "faith," as throughout Hebrews 11. It also can mean obey, as in 1 Peter 2:7-8: "Unto you therefore which believe he is precious: but unto them which be disobedient, the stone which the builders disallowed, the same is made the head of the corner, and a stone of stumbling, and a rock of offense, even to them which stumble at the word, being disobedient: whereunto also they were appointed." "Believe" in verse 7 is "pisteuo;" "disobedient" in verse seven and eight is "apisteuo" (the "a" prefex meaning "without, lacking, etc.").

So with both "peitho" and "pisteuo," there is an intrinsic tie between belief/faith and obedience. To the Hellenic mind, it seems, the one implied the other.

Perfectus Est

2007-08-16T11:49:00.000-06:00

So I just finished Summer term and what I hope will be my very last religion class at the BYU. Haroo!

These religion classes present the most interesting dichotomy. Here you have the possibility of the most intense, thorough, and effective studies of some indisputably important subject material to an extent not possible at any other university. The mere potential is staggering. Blessed with this tremendous opportunity, we turn the religion classes into little more than a glorified Sunday School class-- likewise, a tremendous disappointment. Light-mindedness prevails, and rather than actually learning anything of substantial value, we spend most of our time engaged in emotional self-stimulation.

"The things of God are of great import; and time, and experience, and careful, and ponderous, and solemn thoughts can only find them out. Thy mind, oh man, if thou wilt lead a man unto salvation, must stretch as high as the utmost heavens, and search into and contemplate the darkest abyss, and the broad expanses of eternity; thou must commune with God!"

What a let-down.

"Hannibal Ad Portas"

2007-08-10T11:38:00.000-06:00

The mentions of Hannibal and the Punic Wars bring up some more stories that must be told.

The story of Hannibal begins after the first of three Punic wars (Rome v. Carthage). His father was a Carthaginian commander by the name of Hamilcar Barca, who raised his son to hate Rome. As a boy, Hannibal swore that as long as he lived, he would be an enemy to Rome. Once he became commander of the Carthaginian forces, he managed to maneuver a border dispute into the Second Punic War, determined to march his army through the impenetrable walls of Rome.

In one of the most famous military campaigns of all time, Hannibal marched his army, elephants and all, through the alps-- a move celebrated hundreds of years later when Napoleon executed the same feat. Though outnumbered, he won stunning victories at Treba and Lake Trasimene, utterly decimating the Roman forces that opposed him. Responding to the threat, Rome raised an army of unprecedented size and met Hannibal at what was to be one of the epic battles of history at Cannae.

It was an utter disaster. Hannibal, though vastly outnumbered, attacked the Romans in a reverse crescent formation, with the center closest to the Roman army. Little by little, the center was beaten back, and the pursuing Romans fell into a perfectly laid trap as the Carthaginian wings wrapped around the Roman army. 50,000 to 70,000 of Rome's 100,000 man army were killed or captured, and the Battle of Canae remains to this day one of the bloodiest battles of all time.

But he underestimated Roman resilience. Rome employed the services of one "Fabius," known as "The Delayer" for the manner in which his maneuvering prevented the tactical genius Hannibal from fully engaging with his army. By the time Hannibal made it to the gates of Rome and demanded surrender, Rome had built up just enough of a force to be able to resist him. Not only did Rome reject his demand for surrender, but the senate auctioned off the land on which the Carthaginian army was encamped-- and it was purchased for full price. Hannibal knew he had lost, and in frustration, he hurled a spear at the gates of Rome. I am told that to this day, Hannibal is thought of as a sort of Roman boogeyman, and children are frightened into obedience with the threat, "Hannibal ad portas!" (Hannibal is at the gates!)

Hannibal finally met his match in one Scipio Africanus, who took his army to Carthage and forced Hannibal to leave the Italian peninsula. The two armies clashed at Zama, where Scipio handed Hannibal a sound defeat. Carthage now decimated, her best commander and army effectively vanquished, Carthage surrendered.

All was well for the next few years, until Carthage began to rise in emminence again. A Roman senator named Cato the Elder would end every speech with the words, "Carthago Delenda Est"-- Carthage must be destroyed. A minor provocation led to the third Punic war, which resulted in Carthage's utter destruction. The city was burned, razed to the ground, and salt sown into the site so that nothing would ever grow there again.

De Gustibus Non Disputandum Est

2007-08-09T21:11:00.000-06:00

As a veteran of one week of blogging , I believe I have discerned blogdom's great secret: blogs are only for a) the married (preferably with children), or b) the interesting. Being neither, I find this particular exercise not necessarily one of futility, but of mere introspection. I suppose that this little blog will remain my particular domain until I should become either engaged or engaging. In the meantime, I use this little toy to amuse myself-- thus ensuring that b) will never happen, and making the case for a) all the more unlikely.

But as they say, there's no disputing taste, no matter what the Honor Code office has me tell them every Tuesday as terms of my probation. Following with the theme, I give you a few of my guilty pleasures:

Movies these days can be pretty dull, but once in a while, there is a movie that comes out that is just fantastic. 300 is a movie that has come around that is just fantastic. Fun for men of all ages and genders, this dramatic and highly stylized retelling of the Battle of Thermopylae is a testosterone-driven piece of cinematography that manages to turn a bloodfest into a work of art.

Quite possibly one of the best movies ever made, Silence of the Lambs swept the Oscars, winning for Best Actor, Actress, Director, Screenplay, and Movie for 1991, a feat only accomplished two other times in history. A psychological thriller, and the very personification of evil in Hannibal Lecter.

Speaking of Hannibal, have there ever been any good movies made on the Punic Wars? Wendy? The public is probably burned out on good old-fashioned epics for a while, after the likes of Troy and Alexander. But since we're talking about classics for a bit . . . .

I have a poster of this picture hanging on my wall, and I just found out the story behind it. David's The Oath of the Horatii, depicting the Horatius Father giving swords to his three boys before they go off to battle. The women weeping in the corner are their sisters, though they weep for ulterior motives.

What happens is this. Rome is fighting a rival city, Alba Longa, and the war falls into stalemate. To break the stalemate, the two cities agree to allow a set of triplets from each city fight to the death. From Alba Longa was chosen the Curiatii brothers; from Rome, the Horatii.

The battle ensued, and quickly, two of the Horatii were slain. The three Curiatii pursued the remaining of the Horatii, but in so doing, spread out and were picked off one by one. Rome won. On his way back, victorious, the Horatius son came across his weeping sister, and asked her why she wept, Rome having won. It turns out that one of the Curiatii was her boyfriend. Upon hearing this, Horatius reacted as every good Roman apparently was supposed to: stabbing her in the heart. "Go to your lover in hell with your little girl's love, you who have forgotten your brothers both living and dead, and forgotten her fatherland. May it thus be to any Roman woman who mourns her enemy!"

The story was told in Livy's Ab Urbe Condita (from the founding of the city) as a tale to inspire Roman patriotism in its citizens. Quite fascinating, those ancients.

Et Dixit Doug, Fiat Wednesday. Et Factus est Wednesday.

2007-08-08T19:53:00.000-06:00

Lest I be accused of stumbling out of the gates, here comes another post. En route are two more little snapshots of vita mea:

1. One of THOSE kinds of kids is in my D&C class. Anybody who has taken a religion class at BYU is familiar with the type, no doubt: having served a mission, he already knows everything there is to know about the subject material. He's there to feel the sweet glow of the spirit and to lift and inspire others that they may one day be like unto himself. No insightful comment ever need be left unsaid, nor a witty remark buried as the unprofitable servant's talent. He is the light and the life of the classroom, the first to volunteer when the teacher needs somebody to conduct the opening hymn (played by an mp3 file, incidentally) or say the opening prayer-- in fact, his contributions are so valuable that he feels he has earned an exemption from the etiquette that calls for raising his hand whenever he has a comment. No need to slow the flow of sage wisdom flowing from his mouth like sweet wine, after all.

@#$% Mormons.

2. I'm in the process of beating myself every Monday through Saturday in the hopes of not looking like a pud anymore. When I came home from a trip to Washington between Spring and Summer terms, I weighed 190 pounds. Through my super-effective dieting techniques, perfected by two years of cutting weight during High School Wrestling, I managed to push it down to a cool 172. The lanky/gangly look didn't really do much for me, either. Since then, I've been going the opposite route and trying to put on as much muscle weight as I can before school starts in September and my free time evaporates. This entails going to the gym MWF for about two hours a day, running on TThS, and eating a lot more. I haven't put on too much pud weight, but I am up to 200+ now. Hopefully, it will be worth it in the long run.

So there it is.

In Principium Erat Doug

2007-08-03T00:37:00.000-06:00

Being perpetually two steps behind in the march of ages, I now finally acquiesce to the surging tide and start my own blog. I have resisted thus far, given my propensity to somehow manage to avoid saying anything either interesting or intelligible without due provocation; yet inexplicably, here I am. I wade into this new project without aim, objective, or even reason, mostly curious to see how long this lasts. Then again, not having anything to write nor anybody to read it apparently is not a sufficient impetus for me to hold my peace; what, then, will stop me now?

I just read that last paragraph and I can't understand what I just said. I hate being a nerd sometimes.

Anyway, I am told that I tend to be something of a tough nut to crack. Perhaps these few vignettes will help clear things up; more likely, they will tease the reader down the wrong direction and raise more questions than answers. I don't exactly shy away from being cryptic-- as the great philosopher Calvin stated, "People pay more attention to you when they think you're up to something."

So, the basics. I am an early-twenties BYU student, majoring in Classics (the study of Ancient Greece and Rome, emphasizing especially in the Greek and Latin languages) and History. I have no idea to what profession such majors are to lead me. The most likely outcome is that I will live in my parents' basement forever while you make more money than me, while I am consoled by the fact that I am smarter than you are. I am also something of a BYU football aficionado. The rather diverse fields of nerd-dom and jock-dom rarely intersect, often leaving me wedged betwixt the two, such that I am the only one who laughs when the ANES teacher informs us that pylons marked the entryway into the sacred zone.

And thus it begins.